EY-115 Apocalypse
by GreenFantasy64
Summary: St. Louis is under attack from flesh eating creatures. Question is will there be survivors in the end when the help comes or will it be too late for them? "How can she hold on to Hope if there was Doubt in her mind?" ...Hints of Ivan/OC, Joe/Francoise. AU.
1. Prologue

Prologue:

* * *

**_I had finally done it! I finally created what people told me I could never achieve: A way for humans to stay young and live longer!_**

**_As I write this letter to you, Mr. Eckermann a truck full of them is on its way to St. Louis Hospital. I'm certain this will save your son, Carl, with _**no**_ major side effects._**

**_If you shall not believe me completely I will also be sending a VCR tape. With it you can see how the progress was. _**

**_From the creator of EY-115,_**

**_Cassandra Cardenas_**

**_P. S._**

**_Once you had read this letter _**BURN _**it.**_

* * *

I don't know Cyborg 009 or The Aftermath of the Dead.

~GreenFantasy64


	2. Chapter 1

I don't own Cyborg 009 or the Aftermath of the Dead.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 1:

(Nov. 6, 2018 3:12 P.M.)

"You shouldn't look outside, Esther."

A six years old girl peered away from the broad up window and turned away. "I couldn't help it— mommy could be looking for us." She started to pet her stuffed tiger's head. The twelve years old boy with sky blue hair and eyes looked at her. She knew him of course; he was Ivan Whisky, her twelve years old step-brother.

Ivan let out a sigh before walking inside the room to his younger step-sister. "She probably knows about this game Esther. This game of Hide-and-Seek, so she can't look for us if she is out in the open." He linked his hand around hers and led her away from the window. "Now do you still want me to tell you a story while you try to sleep?"

The little girl nodded and got into the bed. Moving over she made room for Ivan to get on too. "You never got the chance to tell me about Peter Pan." He got on the bed and looked around the room. It wasn't their room at all— it was someone else room; maybe a little boy from the small size of the room and by the toys placed neatly on the shelves.

"Oh, right. I promise you that— didn't I?"

Covering Esther and her stuffed tiger with the light blue blanket Ivan took a deep breath to start the storytelling. "It is said that there's a place for children to have fun and stay young forever called Neverland. There are Indians, mermaids, fairies, and pirates that lived in Neverland. Of course let's not forget the main stars, Peter Pan himself, and the Lost Boys."

Esther continued listening to him as her eyes started to blink lazily.

"Peter Pan was the leader to the Lost Boys and had a companion named Tinker Bell. Everyday they'll have fun and never get bored being in Neverland. They played pranks with the Pirates especially the Captain, called Captain Hook since he had a hook as a hand. They played games with the Indians then later Peter Pan will tell his pasted adventures to the mermaids every evening."

He inched closer to Esther and started to whispered, "One night Peter Pan came back to Neverland from here with few new faces. They were Wendy, John, and Michael. Tinker Bell was jealous of this, but soon accepted them. But they didn't stay long in Neverland; they went back home to their parents in the end."

Esther asked a question, "Do you think he will visit us and take us to Neverland? Along with Mommy and Daddy?"

Ivan looked up at the ceiling. "She won't be able to come— no grown-ups can visit Neverland because they stop believing and forgot about child-like fantasies when every child grows up to be an adult."

"So Daddy won't be waiting for us there?"

Ivan frowned at that question. Keeping out the bitterness from his voice he simply said, "No."

Ivan didn't love his father anymore even before he died from a drunken car crash a year ago. His father had started becoming drunk and became addicted to it. He was always depressed or too cheery every time Ivan came home from school. Ivan started to hate him, but to not cause worry to Esther he had tried his best to stay away from his father as much as possible. Esther was a princess to Ivan's father.

So he couldn't help but be glad yet at the same time be furious at his father for dying. His step-mother had to work two jobs to support them. So they were mostly alone at the apartment, Ivan and Esther, doing homework together, eating together, and Ivan telling a bedtime story for Esther.

He looked at Esther as she looked at him worried. She was hugging on to her stuff animal. He rubbed one of the ears in his fingers. This stuffed tiger was a gifted from him when Esther had first saw it and wanted it. So he got it for her birthday. She had named it Eor, but to him it sounded like 'Ear' or 'Here' at times. It was a sweet memory to him when he had made her happy than her staying sad over the loss of her step-father.

He kissed her forehead. "It will be okay Esther. You still got me. I'll stay forever by your side, protecting you from any danger." He smoothed out her long blonde hair out of her face. The hair that she had gotten from her mother. She closed her green eyes with a smile. "Goodnight," she breathed out.

"Goodnight Esther."

He stayed awake, his ears straining for any sounds of danger. He remembered when he had first meet Esther. It was when his father introduced them to him as his new family members when he was just ten years old and Esther was just four years old. They were both shy to talk to each other, but they warm up to each other as they talk and lick ice cream together in the park.

He covered his eyes with both of his fists. _Darn it, I feel like using my cursed gifts right now, but I can't if I want to stay awake to protect Esther. _He got up slowly, careful not to wake up his younger step-sister and went to the board up window. Outside the sky was gray with no sunlight peeking through as rain started to fall. Something caught his eyes right away or more like someone.

It was a woman, he could tell, with blonde hair and had a red headband on. His heart skipped a beat when the first thought was that it was his step-mother but regain himself quickly. _Another survivor out in the streets, what is she thinking? _Not helping himself his eyes started to glow a warm light blue hue as he searched her mind without her knowing. This was his cursed gift: paranormal powers that came with psychokinetic, telepathy, and other psychic powers. Soon he found something interesting. _So you're not alone and he is checking out a building if it is safe. The area where my step-mother works… I better stick with you for a while. It might be risky for me but I have to do this._

* * *

So like "The Night of Horror" I had to do this for homework for English, but it was supposed to be only three paragraphs...only I decided to do more. :) Next chapter will be like somewhat similar to pages 170 to 179 (Aftermath of the Dead, Gregory Smith) but different because I'm using Joe and Francoise as the main characters and its somewhat different.

Review if you want or not.

~GreenFantasy64


	3. Chapter 2

Enjoy!

: Chapter 2:

(Nov. 6, 2018 3:13 P.M.)

There were always dead human's bodies everywhere they went.

Always.

The stench of decomposing was heavy in the air along with smoke. Dozens of the bodies had blood surrounding them in the sidewalk, the roads, and even dripping down the car's half-open window. Broken glass was on the sidewalk and on the road. It was only been a night yet the zombies had made their way past here. They went pasted St. Louis's downtown street, probably still making their way east.

Joe carefully made his way to one of the vehicles: a brand new red S.U.V. He looked at each person's face as his hand holding onto the pocket knife started to sweat. Each pair of eyes was mostly the same— wide-open eyes that were life-less. But Joe wasn't going to relax— there had been bunch of zombies that had life-less eyes that wanted his flesh before.

In front of the driver's window Joe resisted the urge to touch the red liquid to feel how wet it was; he didn't want the zombies to smell the blood in his fingertips. By judging the liquid sliding down the window, it was still flesh. _That means the zombies came here not too long ago,_ Joe stated. He took a peek over the window and immediate pulled away, feeling sick to his stomach.

Inside the S.U.V. there was a decrease teenager boy in the front seats. His mouth was wide open in a silent scream with his eyes closed shut. There was a nasty bite on his neck and on one of his legs where the blood was rushing out from. Joe looked back on the kid's face. Streaming down his face there was also blood coming from within his black wavy hair. But that wasn't what made him sick.

It was the stench and the dozens of flies that made Joe sick. Several of the flies were going inside the boy's mouth and a few landing on his injuries.

The man covered his mouth and nose with his free hand and looked away, coughing out the unclear air. He heard soft crunching sounds behind him that he spun around, the knife ready to be useful. He froze when he saw who it was. It was just Franҫoise— just Franҫoise, a young human woman, and not a flesh eating monster.

She stood tense with fear in her blue eyes as the knife lingered near her pale neck. The cold blade was barely touching her skin. She didn't dare speak for fear of moving her neck toward the blade. Franҫoise was even holding her breath.

When Joe did finally moved the knife away her eyes flashed with anger. "What was that for, Joe?" The woman angrily cried out, her voice threatening to rise in volume.

Joe couldn't help but roll his eyes as he just said, "I thought you were a zombie." It was the truth. He let out a shrug and started to walk away, taking big steps over the few dead people.

Franҫoise stared at him disbelief before she followed after him. "You thought _I _was a zombie!" She questioned him but the words sounded like a surprise statement.

The man stopped suddenly and spun around causing her to fall down on her bottoms from not expecting that. He frowned down at her. "Look, you got to keep your volume down or else _you_ will attract the zombies to us," He argued as he offered out his spare hand toward Franҫoise. She let out a huff and looked away but accepted his hand in her own. With his help she got on her two feet. The man started to walk away again with the blonde hair woman trailing behind him.

She slapped the dirt away from the side of her thighs and realized something. Softly groaning to herself she realized that her bottom was wet from the ground since there had been drizzles going on and off during the day. _When will the nightmare stop? _Giving up of wiping the wetness from her blue jeans she continued to follow Joe, going around the dead people's legs. It made her feel sick looking at their eyes or wounds infected on them. _Why couldn't this just be a dream?_

Soon Joe started to mumble to himself as his eyes darted side to side, looking for any signs of zombies. "Maybe the zombies had wandered too far already, but if they're ahead than that means they'll leave the city!"

Franҫoise had begun to become more nervous now as she could barely hear Joe talking to himself. She paused, closing the leather jacket she was wearing around her than zipping it up. Her fingers— no, her hands now— was shaking badly that she wrapped herself and let out a small shiver. It wasn't from the cold. She felt fragile in the open despite her having Joe who had a little deadly weapon to protect her. _We should go back now,_ she thought while she saw a car that had its hood on fire in front of them.

But that wasn't what made her stop in her tracks in fear.

In a quick motion she grab Joe's coat collar and jerk it back. He let out a cry of surprise, but recovered himself as he took a step back and looked at her with a glare. "What was that for?" He demanded. "If it was for that—"

The young woman interrupted him as she harshly whispered, "Shut up Joe!" She put a finger to her lips to show him to stay shush and pointed it toward the five zombies in front of them. Four of them were older men and the last one was a teenager girl. They were walking ahead of the couple; their feet shuffling as they let out a painful moan chorus. The young woman saw Joe nodding to let her know that he saw them.

A wet drop hit Franҫoise in her cheeks and rolled down to her chin. Without thinking she looked up to see big gray clouds in the grayish sky. _No,_ she thought horribly; _don't tell me it's going to rain! _But it was. Almost like God had tilted a bowl full of water on them as the rain poured heavily on the city. She let out a soft curse before she felt the man grabbing her wrist and pulled her away from the road.

1-1-1-1-1-1

(Nov. 6, 2018 3:19 P.M.)

Every crunching sound their shoes would make made Franҫoise cringe. They had walked two blocks south to get away from the zombies without the monsters knowing. This time instead of walking in the roads they were walking in an alley. The rain was pouring hard on their heads and shoulders on the leather jackets, the cold wet drops formed goose bumps on their arms despite the jackets they were wearing to keep them warm. The sound of the raindrops always calm down Franҫoise before but this time it didn't.

"We got to find some place to hide from the zombies!" Joe rushed the words out of his mouth as he looked around the edge of the alley.

Franҫoise froze on those words, feeling angry building up in her chest. She hated feeling frustrated but she focus the words out making sure the venom was clear in her voice, "You made us get out of your apartment to escape from this city, but now you want to find a place to hide?"

He turned around, knowing what she just replied was true. "Look I know I screwed up— I won't lie about it— but I thought that," He pushed his large reddish-brown band over his head but it came back down, covering his right eye again, " we could escape this city or find out that everything was going to be okay, but it's not!"

"They're everywhere turning everyone else into the flesh eating creatures themselves!" He took a gulp of air and released it. Leaning against the wall he looked at her. Her eyes had softened a bit and were now looking at her feet. Letting her bangs covered her eyes she started blinking rapidly to get rid of the tears so Joe won't see. _Does that mean Jean-Paul… no he won't become one of them,_ she firmly thought to herself. She exhaled. _Brother, are you watching me from above? Are you with Father and Mother already?_ The anger was gone she only felt empty as she saw Joe putting the pocket knife away in one of the pockets in the jacket.

"Franҫoise…" He put his hands on her shoulder. "It will be okay, I promise you."

She should have swallowed the words down her throat so she wouldn't have anything to regret of saying it later, but she didn't. "You should have saved Jean-Paul from the zombies then! Why did you just saved me only? You could have saved us both!" She cried out.

He looked at her in the eyes when replying, "I tried, but it was already too late for him, Françoise."

She wanted to cry, to scream out her pain and her fiery, but she did her best to keep calm. She said nothing. His hands were lifted from her shoulders as he looked back at the end of the alley. Something had caught his eyes before and it was glowing neon lights. He narrowed his eyes against the raindrops and saw that it was a sign for a restaurant called 'Larry's Pub Restaurant' in green and red neon lights. It looked normal from the outside.

"Stay here— I'm going to check out this building really quick."

Françoise didn't say anything only nodded as he jogged off. The water splashed up from his pumped up kicks as he crossed the road; making his way through another alley alone.

Taking out a pocket watch the young blonde hair woman opened it to look at it. Not for the time but to remember the good times she had just yesterday noon. She was just hanging out with her two best friends talking about her new boyfriend taking her out that night to the movies in a small café. She had some laughs before Joe had arrived to pick her up since Jean-Paul will be working. She may be nineteen but Jean-Paul was her protective brother since she was his only family member he had left. They were on their way to surprise Jean-Paul for lunch when the attack happened.

It wasn't right away. It was slow. In front of them they saw few people bitten by other people, but they were different somehow. The screams, the moans, and the blood spilled— it all seem so real to her eyes and ears. She thought it was all an act but Joe didn't think so. He took her away when gunshots were fired. Everyone, undead or alive, was getting shot in the panic.

The golden, black, and white watch glowed blurry at her before she closed it shut. She put it away back in her pocket. _Jean-Paul, I still have your watch. I had promised to return it yesterday… but I guess that promise wouldn't be fulfilled. _His voice echoed her mind as she remembers him crying out to Joe to take Françoise away and keep her safe. That was before she saw the zombie came from behind him and bite him hard in his shoulder, bringing him down to his kneecaps. Françoise shut her eyes hard as she took a shaky breath.

Soon she heard footsteps coming quickly towards her. She didn't panic; she knew it wasn't a zombie— they were too slow from their dead weight. She opened her eyes to see Joe making his way to her. He didn't bother to look both ways before crossing the road.

"Hey, I found this place— it seems safe enough to stay. There seems to be only two ways to enter or leave the restaurant." Françoise raise an eyebrow on that statement.

"We're going to take shelter in a restaurant?" She replied slowly, feeling doubtful of how safe that will be.

"It will be okay, I'll protect you remember?" He holds his hand out trying his best to hold his patience. He wanted to get out of the rain already. It took a split second before Françoise released a sigh and put her hand on his. They took off toward the restaurant, not wasting any time.

So I had forgotten to mention that the only characters I own in this story are Cassandra Cardenas (I own her for a very good reason) and Esther. I don't own Cyborg 009 or Aftermath of the Dead and Call of Duty: Black Ops Zombies.

Review if you want or not.

~GreenFantasy64


	4. Chapter 2: continued

: Chapter 2 (continued):

(Nov. 6, 2018 3:24 P.M.)

Peering inside through the tinted windows Françoise saw how the restaurant looked like. She heard a faint _click_ after Joe unlocked the front doors. Françoise frowned and looked at his back. "I thought you had given up your old ways," She asked him.

The young man didn't look behind him as he opened the door putting away the pick lock in his pocket with his other hand. "It's hard to get rid of the habit. And it's a good thing I still have it." He went in followed by Françoise who resumed looking inside the building.

Few metal chair were laid down on the floor as if they had been throw back by force. On the floor that leaded behind the counter to the kitchen had smeared blood. She glance up at the flickering lights and back down on the blood that wasn't fresh.

Something black dart across the floor to the other side of the room that caught the young woman by surprise. The scream got caught in her throat and she shallowed it down painfully. Walking carefully past a round table in the middle, she looked underneath it to see a rat chewing on something. The rat was filthy as it looked back at her. Françoise gasp to see that the eyes were cloudy red and there was a smeared blood on its nose and mouth. Opening it's mouth to let out a faint hiss it did the unexecpted thing.

It fell on its side dead.

The woman quickly went to get the eighteen years old to show what just happen. Grabbing his hand she tugged him toward the small dead creature. He rose an eyebrow at her and at the mouse before going to get a broom.

A gentle poke didn't cause it to stir. "It's dead Françoise. Probably be dead for a while now. Are you sure it was even alive when you found it?" Joe poked the dead ray's stomach again with the end of the boom stick again.

"I'm positive!"

The eighteen years old got up and arch his back to stretch. The woman could hear his bones crackling as she looked at him. "You don't believe me, Joe?"He looked at her in the corner of his eye.

He said nothing.

She downcast her eyes and went to sit down on the opposite side. The table was one of the few cleaned. On top there rested the two salt and pepper shakers, napkins, a ketchup bottle, and a candle near an empty vase.

"They have candles on the tables," Françoise stated with a sad tone.

Joe, who had started walking to the kitchen heard what she said. "I'll go find some matches then; they got to have them here somewhere— maybe in the back," He claimed as he walked toward a room that had a sign saying "employees area." It was on a hallway in the opposite direction from the restrooms. The eighteen years old opened the door to see the room to be almost in the same condition with the lights as the main room.

Inside the room was a dark brown desk, a chair, and bookcase close to the wall together. Few books hardly full up the five shelves. He entered. Only the desk seemed to be messing with all the spread out papers on the desktop. Before he check the drawers, Joe turned the single lamp on. With the dimming lights condition Joe knew he would had a hard time searching. Few seconds he found a box full of matches in one of the desk's drawer. Closing the drawer Joe went back to the door to leave when something caught his eye on the wall.

A shotgun that was resting on a wooden board stood out in its way to him. He paused, one foot stepping outside the office. "I'll be damn if..." He trailed off and made his way to the shotgun.

The wooden board wasn't too high up in the wall that Joe barely had to stretch on his toes to grab it. The man took a step back to admire to gun in his hands only to look disappointed.

It was fake. A model of a shotgun.

He scoffed and run his hand through his bang. "Figures," He grumbled out as he tossed the shotgun on the desk.

The few papers were roughly pushed, pens that were in a coffee cup were now rolling off the desk, and the shotgun rested near a small pool of black ink. The lamp was had fallen close to the desk, spreading its light on the red carpet.

Joe hope that Françoise didn't hear the noise and had assumed the worst was happening to him. He let out a heavy sigh. "How am I suppose to protect her? I promise him and her that I'll protect her from any danger. So how can I do it if I only have a pocket knife?"

Closing the office door he went back to where Françoise was at. "Found the matches!" Deciding to light up the candles on the young woman's table first, Joe pulled out a match.

The lights flickered off.

Joe could hear the sharp intake from her. Within seconds the lights came back on. Letting out a soft chuckle Joe ignite the match from the match box and light up the candles. "We're lucky the lights didn't go off completely."

"You think someone hit a pole somewhere in this block?" The eighteen years old shrugged at her question. He went to light up the other candles in the room. Within minutes the room was brighten up in a warm glow from the candles. Grabbing two chairs Joe secured them underneath the handles in case the zombies wanted a snack.

He turned around to see Françoise studying one of the candles' flame. A sad expression rested on her face. Joe felt almost sorry for her. Losing a brother to zombies and not knowing if he become one too must be tough on her. But then Joe never had a family before. It was always him before he met them.

With a sigh Joe suggested out to her, "Hey I'm hungry— how about you, Françoise?" She didn't reply. The young man frowned at her before continuing, "How about we go look for something to eat?" _She has to be hungry, right? Doesn't food make girls feel better or is that only ice cream?_

"I'm going to the lady's room," She said, her voice not trembling at all. She got up to go to the lady's restroom.

Letting her have some space for now, Joe went back to the kitchen to explore.

~1-1~

(Nov. 6, 2018 3:42)

Inside the women's restroom the blonde hair woman clicked on the lights and went to look at herself in the mirror. Fixing her red headband she saw her eyes were lightly puffing and red. Exhaling she heard the sound of buzzing. The sound was coming from behind her in one of the three stalls. She turned around in a slow motion, holding in her breath. On the floor near the stall's door laid a metal baseball bat.

Bending down carefully the young woman pick it up. She exhale.

"Do I even dare find out what's behind the door?" She asked herself. Taking a breath she nodded to reassure herself. Grabbing the bats' handled with both hands she kicked the red stall door. It flew open.

"Aah!"

Inside the big stall rested a decreased woman with blonde hair. Blood surrounded her upper body that had came from three of the woman's injuries: one from a zombie bite in the right arm, in the left shoulder, and the last one from the chest. Cockroaches and flies were hanging out near the woman. One fly landed on her lip and walked inside her ajar mouth.

Françoise covered her mouth and nose and looked away. Deep inside her she felt... Sadness. She looked back at the woman's face. Her eyes were closed with few strands of blonde hair rested on her left cheek. The rest of her hair was in a messy ponytail. The woman didn't look familiar to Françoise; she never see her before. The nineteen years old saw that there rested a nametag near the bloody spot on the woman's uniform: Larry's Pub Restaurant— Whisky.

She shook her head and was about to leave when she froze.

There was a faint wheeze from the decrease woman. It turned into a moan.

~1-1~

_Stepmother._

Ivan collapsed on the floor with a _thud_, breathing in a deep, slow rhythm. His eyes started to droop down heavily. He could feel his cursed gift ending it's frenzy tingling in his mind.

He looked over his shoulder at the bed. A thought of sleeping came to his mind. Or more like his body demanding of rest.

Ivan let out a frustrated sigh. "This happens every single time! A need to use my cursed gifts, use it, get tired, then sleep for eight to ten days. Through it depends on how much I use it that will get me tired. I'm lucky that everyone that knows me think I just have an unknown disease that only effects my physical and mental body of energy every once in a while," Ivan whispered.

Getting rid of the thought of sleep, he looked at Esther. She had a face of calm in her sleep. She held in her arms her stuffed tiger, Eor. _How can I possible tell her that her mother_—

In the background he heard a faint rumbling sound of a car. No, not just a background sound.

Not believing it, Ivan stumbled up and peered outside the boarded up window. A yellow jeep carefully made its way through the road while passing crashed and abandon cars. He didn't need to think as Ivan reacted quickly. Reaching for the powers inside his mind, the boy searched for the driver's mind. He found it instantly. He screamed out, 'Stop!'

The vehicle jerked to the driver's left side before stopping.

'Now wait.'

Ivan turned around and shook his stepsister's shoulder to wake her up. "Esther, wake up! Wake up!" He urged out.

"Wh-what?" she replied lazily. Rubbing one of her eyes, Ivan grabbed her other hand to get her off the bed. She become fully awake as her stepbrother grabbed also her stuff animal. "Ivan?" She said, worried and confused hinted at her voice.

"Nothing bad happen, Esther! Instead something good— we can leave now!" Ivan rushed the words out with excitement. Opening the bedroom's door, Ivan lead them both to the front door, pasting the kitchen and living room. Hoping that the person was still waiting outside, Ivan started to jog with Esther behind him down the staircase.

Having be staying at the second floor the two children arrived at the first floor in no time. Ivan had to resisted the urge to bang the double doors open than open them cautiously. The jeep, of course, was still there, waiting.

Esther stopped, making her step brother stop also and look at her confused. "Is mommy in there?"

Ivan's heart skipped a beat. Above them the sky was releasing the tears down to them. "Esther..." _I just have to tell her; I can't lie to her_. "Mommy isn't coming. She got caught... She got tagged. Esther, mommy is one of them."

Tears were forming in her eyes. She shook her head and muttered, "M-mommy."

Behind Ivan, they heard a door opened.

"Hey!" A man's voice cried out with a hint of german accent in it.

The two children saw that it was indeed a man with blueish-white hair and steel gray eyes making his way toward them. He wore a thick brown jacket and clean white pants. His shoes were black boots. Ivan saw that the man had some thing of gun strapped to his back.

The man knew what the boy was looking at. "It's a trench gun, kid." He stood in front of them, ignoring Ivan's glare. The man introduced himself, "The name's Albert. What are you kids doing, being outside? Don't you know it's dangero—"

He shook his head. "Nevermind that! Where are your parents?"

Esther didnt answered, remembering what her mother said of not to talk to stranger. Ivan answered, "We're orphans now. Can you help us escape this city?"

The man felt sorry for them. The way the girl looked scary and shivered from the cold wind and the drizzle that ran down her pale cheeks. The boy held the girl's hand and had determine in his sky blue eyes and did his best not to shiver from the cold. He nodded. "I was leaving alway... Through I can't recall the reason why I pulled to the side in the beginning. Maybe..." He trailed off on that sentence. "Okay, follow me, kid and young lady."

"My name is Ivan Whisker! Not 'Kid' Albert."

Albert rose an eyebrow. "You talk mature, like an adult than a kid," He muttered to himself. "Fine, I'll call you Ivan than kid. Now let's go— it's not safe to continue staying here!"

Esther hesitated but took Ivan's hand again. He was her only suriving family member left. She knew Ivan will always protect her from any danger. "Goodbye Mommy," She whispered behind her with a single tear flowing down her cheek. "I love you." She followed them into the jeep where the man made sure they put on their sit belts before starting the car.

On the spot they all once stood now floated a ghostly figure. A woman with blonde ponytail. She continued looking at the yellow jeep driving away.

**_I love you too, dear. Stay safe, Esther, my daughter_**.

~1-1~

(Nov. 6, 2018 3:56)

The eighteen years old man left the kitchen in disappointed with no food in hands. His stomach protested on his failure on searching. With a soft click, the kitchen door closed behind him. Making his way to the door's windows to see outside Joe examine how bad the city had become.

He grimaced on the sight. The rain had lead to a light drizzle but the sun was still hiding behind the thick gray clouds. The streets looked bare without the people walking or drinking in it. Only few abandon cars keep the street company. The scenery looked weird to his eyes. Seeing that there was no zombies out there Joe walked away from the window.

Françoise still hasn't come back from the restroom, he realized. Joe made his way to sit down when he saw something shining on the floor underneath one of the tables. "What's this?" Getting on his knees he pick it up to revealed the shinning thing to be actually a key. He stood up and turn the key over. Labeled on the key was a single word, 'Storage.'

Behind him, Joe felt a faint presence slowing entering the same room that he was in. In a blur he brought out his knife. Turning around he faced his opponent. Only it wasnt an undead creature. It was his friend's sister: Françoise. She trudged into room with a bloody bat. Her eyes had a faraway look in them. Joe looked at her in shock. "Françoise?" He whispered out to her.

On her clothes were black blood strains. Even on the metal bat, he remind himself. He licked his dry lips before asking, "Françoise, are you okay? What happen— where did you get that bat?"

"This bat?" Her voice sounded far away just like her eyes. "I got this from the restroom... Killed a woman with it."

Joe continued to stare at the nineteen years old in shock. The girl that he loved who was always sweet and was always against wars, killed a woman with a metal bat!

She blinked and looked at him. "She was a zombie, Joe." Tears started to form at her eyes. "She was once a human... A person with life... I killed her before she could attack me. I'm a murderer!" She dropped the bat and fell down to her knees. Covering her eyes she started to weep.

The eighteen years got ln his knees also and hugged her. He started to comfort her with smooth words, "Its okay Françoise. You didn't had a chose; you did what you had to— to survive."

She shook her head in his chest. "I- I was so scared... So confused. That zombie—no, that woman before she attacked me, she moaned out, 'I'm sorry,' and I hit her in the head before she got too close. I was surprised that I did that. In my mind I felt a faint, sad, command to keep hitting it until it dies. And I did. Over and over," She trailed off.

Joe started to rub her back as he heard what she was telling him. What words were there to comfort a person that felt guilty for killing an once human?

He pushed her back a bit to look at her. "You didn't happen to... Get hurt, did you?" She shook her head instead of answering and wiped her tears from her cheeks. She opened her lips to speak when a growl sounded.

A stomach's growl more like it.

She blushed and looked away. Her stomach reminded them both that they haven't eaten in a while now. Joe looked down at the forgotten key at his hand. There had been a locked door inside the kitchen._ Could it be that the locked door was actually a food storage? _"How did the search go for some food, Joe?" Françoise asked, snapping Joe from his thoughts.

"I think... I think I know where there might be food at." He got up and help the nineteen years old woman up also. He started to lead her toward the kitchen. He hope he was right.

On the floor next to the metal bat an undead rat stared after them. It sniffed the blood coated on the bat before it let out a hissed.

~1-1~

Outside, near the back of the Pub Restaurant, a woman was crawling away from a pack of zombies. Her sky blue eyes showed fear in them. Some of her chopped jet black hair was stuck to her tear strain cheeks, a smeared of dirt covered some parts of her face, clothes of a business woman style teared in a few places, and she was missing one of her red heels. The woman appeared to look over thirty years old.

Ignoring the cuts and bite marks in her body, the woman was determined to escape the danger. But there laid a hint of fear in her eyes. Already her arms' muscles were straining and burning, and her fingertips burned from all the tiny cuts she had gotten. She no longer care about her perfect nails getting dirty and getting chipped. She only care of getting away.

"Get away, get away, you monsters! Somebody— anybody help me! Anyone!" She screamed out over the endless moans. Without warning her body collapsed on her. Taking sharp intakes of breathes more tears were forming in her eyes.

She could hear the zombies coming closer. Closer. And closer. The woman looked behind her shoulder to see the undead people, of around fifteen of them, coming at an extremely slow pace. She could see their mouths opening and barely closing— showing their bloody teeths. Their dirty fingers clawing the open air in front of them. And their eyes— their eyes so cloudy and faraway, but you could see a hint of red and lavender in them. The woman looked away. She let out a whimper.

With panic eyes she saw a door. A way out of danger!

Using the hope to escape, she crawled toward the wall near the door and used the wall to try to push herself up. Her trembling fingers reached for the doorknob. _So close, so_ _close. Come o—_

Aaahh, no! No, no get away from me!"

Two zombies had grabbed her already, forcing their dead weight on the injury woman down. On her kneecaps the woman tried to fight them off but was failing horribly. More surrounded the three of them, touching and biting the woman. She screamed out her pain from within the zombies' crowd.

It only took five minutes until the zombies finished eating the fresh flesh. They were about to walk away in their own mindless path when a flesh draft flow toward them from inside the restrunent.

The door was ajar.

The air was sliced by the thunderous music from deep within. The sound was enough for all the zombies to turn around and enter.

I don't know Cyborg 009 or The Aftermath of the Dead.

~GreenFantasy64


End file.
